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THE GOLD 



BY 



BESSIE L. RUSSELL 




BOSTON 

SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY 

1912 






Copyhight, 191:2 
kShermax, French & Companv 



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TO 
MY HUSBAND 

WHITFIELD RUSSELL 



For permission to reprint some 
of these poems, thanks are due 
The Outlook and other magazines. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

THE GOLD 1 

RAIN ON THE FARM 9 

THE CALL 10 

AFTER THE STORM 11 

WINTER 12 

DARING 13 

VISIONS 14 

MIST OF THE SEA 15 

SUMMER 16 

REVERIE 17 

MY QUEST 19 

CALL OF THE WOODS 20 

SPRING 21 

THE SHELL 22 

TO THE SEA GULLS 23 

RAIN IN THE CITY 24 

THE MERMAID'S SONG 25 

SONGS OF THE ALPS 

RIGI AT SUNSET 29 

LAKE LUCERNE 30 

PASSING WILLIAM TELL'S CHAPEL ... 32 

CHILLON 33 

JUNGFRAU 34 

INTERLAKEN 35 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

TO A TYROL CRUCIFIX 36 

THE HARVEST 38 

THE RETURN 39 

THE UNIVERSAL NOTE 40 

WHEN POETRY WAS BORN 41 

WALTER PATER TO A BEE 43 

SORROW 44 

WATCHING ANOTHER GLEAN 45 

LOVE RESURRECTED 46 

LAST NIGHT 47 

THEN— AND NOW 48 

FAITH 49 

HOPE 50 

CHARITY 51 

THE AWAKENING 52 

RESURGAM 53 

UNREQUITED 54 

SONGS OF THE NORTH 

INDIAN LULLABY 51 

DESTINY 58 

AN INDIAN LOVE SONG 59 

THE POET 60 



THE GOLD 

A DRAMATIC POEM 



CHARACTERS 

Elizabeth, a society girl 
Evelyn, Elizabeth's friend 
Josephine, Elizabeth's maid 

SCENE 

St. Louis drawing room and Forest Park 

TIME 

The present 



THE GOLD 

Elizabeth. Open the door, the window 
there, 
I suffocate for want of air, 
Yes, yes, and let the breezes blow, 
What matters it if damp or dry ! 
Josephine, my mail ! 

What, not a line ? 
Why, that I can't believe. 
If it's not asking over much, 
I pray you look again. 

(Soliloquizes) 
But why should I for letters sigh.? 
Are they not the breath of men.? 
And men are to me most wearisome. 

Josephine. It is, alas, as I have said. 
There are no letters, but here's Miss Evelyn. 

Elizabeth. Ah, welcome, doubly so, my 
dear, 
I've a case of the "blues," I fear. 
Come close and give me of your thought. 
It seems as if I were distraught. 

Evelyn. Then let me read. What shall it 
be? 
History or philosophy? 

Elizabeth. History? 
What's history but the record of 

[1] 



A million lives all like my own, 
Of love and hate and life and death, 
Of successes won and failures made ; 
Of maids that loved and lived and ran 
Their little lives along with men. 
Of wars — Oh cruel — think not on't — 
Sweet Evelyn, History? Avaunt. 

Evelyn. Then, my dear Girl, Philosophy — 
German or French, which shall I read? 

Elizabeth. Philosophy? Why who is wise? 
Philosophers themselves disguise 
Their real feelings in a cloak, 
Philosophy gives us no hope. 
'Tis this they say, because 'tis this, 
'Tis that, because 'tis that. 
Can you from French or German men 
Glean one true thought to help one on? 
I mean to help undo the stress 
We live in, Evelyn. 

Evelyn. But great men on Philosophy do 
lean. 
It is their staff, their prop. 

Elizabeth. Then lame are they, and weak 
the prop. 
Besides says one that life is joy. 
Another that it's all alloy. 
They never can themselves agree, 
I'll make my own Philosophy. 



[2] 



Evelyn. I fear, like Hamlet, you are much 
mad. 
Pray leave off learning; let's for a drive. 
The Park is joyous at this hour. 
What say you, Elizabeth? 

Elizabeth. The Park then, dear, but not to 
drive, 
'Tis walking in the Park I crave. 

(To maid) 
Hand me my glass, my brush. My hair 
Is looking awkward at this hour. 
And put on me, my dark blue coat. 
The hat to match and gloves to suit. 

(Later, in Forest Park) 
Elizabeth. I am so weary of the flattering 
throng 

Of people. Oh, for me to find 

The road to Somewhere 1 

I feel like birch bark set afloat 

With paddle none. I feel as if 

The waters swift keep me adrift. 

I cannot turn this way, nor that 

Without my being quite upset. 

And oh, the ball last night was tame. 

It's men and women all inane. 

And yet I am but twenty-seven ; 

'Tis time enough for taste of Heaven. 

Evelyn. Pray, leave off^ reverie, my dear, 

And note the colors in this flower ; 
[3] 



Can you seek far and seek in vain 
For Happiness? 

Elizabeth. But flowers fade. They wither — 
pine — 
What think you now, oh, Evelyn? 

Evelyn. Somehow, somewhere, I dimly feel 
There is a Power behind the flowers. 
They come all silently and go 
As if a wand had waved it so ; 
They give to life such passing sweet, 
And may not we, my dear friend, meet 
What e'er that comes as if we, too, 
Were ushered here by unseen Power? 
I grant you, though, it's mystery great. 

Elizabeth. Why, that is Truth! 
And how all men of every clime 
Unconsciously revere the name. 
It was before the stars were born. 
When mountains were unknown, unformed, 
And seas and lakes alike all dry. 
Truth was the force on earth, in sky ; 
It made all things that e'er were made, 
It changes not in any age. 
Ah, sometimes, Evelyn, 'tis I 
Could love this Truth— 
And yet, again, I could not, for 
'Tis Principle correct and sure — 
Can woman love mere Principle? 



[4] 



Evelyn. Again, my dear, in waters deep 
you are submerged. 
Listen, can you hear the violin? 

Elizabeth. How like the human voice. 
I think 'tis like Lorenzo's. 

Evelyn. But Lorenzo, you have not seen in 
many a day. 
I pray you, shall we listen, sta}^? 

Elizabeth. Yes, 'neath this tree I'll hear 
him play. 
Ah, listen how the notes do fall. 
And hushed is e'en the robin's call. 
'Tis music quiets nervous fear, 
And brings to bowed down spirits cheer. 
Already I am merging out 
Of brooding thoughts and all about 
Me seems so changed. What say you of it? 
Does Music hold you in a trance, 
Do fairies, nymphs poetic dance 
Before you, Evelyn? 

Evelyn. Yes, Music's rare enchantress ; she 
Gives of her magic and we see 
A world of visions glad and free. 
The man who sings touches the heart, 
May we not say the same of Art? 

Elizabeth. Why, yes. Art has helped man 
to feel 
The nobler things, but Art does steal 
From Nature. 

[5] 



Evelyn. What's that you say 
Of artists, pray? 

Elizabeth. Do you think any artist bom 
Can get one stroke to paint the sun.? 
As evening nears, it fades, and lo. 
Wraps 'round itself a rosy glow. 
Do you see on a canvas fine 
One tree of birch, like this, or pine.? 
Can you run race with Nature and 
Not find yourself by far outdone.? 
Take any Madonna that man reveres, 
And place it beside yon mother there. 
That youthful one with babe in arms ; 
Note the rare beauty of face and form. 
Were e'er such eyes on canvas? Nay — 
Yet men will travel for miles away. 
To rave o'er Art in galleries. 

— But to return to Lorenzo! 
Know you not, dear, that once to me 
That man was all, was earth and sea 
And stars and clouds and zephyrs free, 
I lived upon his smile, and he — 
But hush, I think he comes. 
But no, 'tis but a musician lone, 
Who loves through wooded paths to roam. 
How strangely moved his music me. 
No, not Lorenzo now I'd see — 
/ seem just satisfied to he. 



[6] 



The love I had for that one then, 

Seems now to have been but fancy, Friend. 

A narrow thing that sort of love, 

By springs of selfishness it's fed. 

An unselfed Love that reaches out 

To every creature, that is Love ! 

That seeks to lift the sick and poor, 

The infant left beside our door. 

Despising not the prison grim, 

Whose men are weak and worn with sin. 

That feels itself one beam to be. 

Of that great Sun, Divinity. 

Ah, Love, dear heart, like this is best, 

It quiets all that strange unrest, 

I feel no more like one adrift. 

Search I no more ; one tiny nook 

Will me most satisfy. 

What is the learning of the seers, 

Compared with Love adown the years — 

Quickener of Life, of Death the door 

That opens to a Morrow fair? 

Let us our steps toward home retrace. 

Each tree to me, each flower has grace. 

Now, now that I have felt and know 

'Twas Love I sought. Is it not so ? 

Evelyn. But do you think the day will 
dawn 
When every path will Love illume ? 



[Y] 



Elizabeth. It must be. 'Tis of life the 
soul. 
Of every creature 'tis the goal. 
We're reaching for it, one and all — 
Love's Love; Love's the Savior of the World. 



[8] 



RAIN ON THE FARM 

Like pearls of thought at first they come, 
The tiny raindrops one by one. 

The grasses all themselves bestir 

To catch the breath of incense pure. 

Then grown to quite an army strong, 

The raindrops form a mighty throng, 

And trees dust laden thankful blow 
And cattle in the cow shed low. 

The farmer's wife in homely gown, 

Half sleep, half wake, pulls window 
down, 

Then falls again to slumber sweet-^ 

Lulled by the raindrop's shuffling feet. 



[9] 



THE CALL 

Fame beckoned me with arms stretched wide, 

Me on the hillside green; 
And I saw in a vision the crowded marts, 

Where my wares had never been. 

I felt ambition tugging hard, 

There in the drowsy clover, 
And I said, "Ah me, these quiet hours 

Will soon, alas, be over." 

But a bird aslant on a bending bough 
Sang a chirp in my ear just then — 

And I heard no more Fame calling me 
To join the ranks of men. 



[10] 



APTER THE STORM 

The lurid lightning shivering fine, 

Sped reckless on. The mountain pine 

Bowed low in terror, whilst the stream 
Swelled angry, white with foam. 

One moment more, the storm had passed; 

The lightning ceased — all nature gasped 
For joy; the coward moon stole out. 

And clouds did scattering go. 

And tree and shrub and clambering thing 
Looked smiling up at life again, 

While forth in gladsome tone did peal 
God's voice in a lone bird's note. 



[11] 



WINTER 

Hail, Winter dear, for kind you be 

To cover every naked tree 

With gorgeous gown so fair to see. 

There is no modiste 'neath the sun 
Could garment fashion quite so fine. 
Of wondrous stuff your gown is spun 

For sheen is there and shadow too, 
And diamond things that pendant glue 
Like costly fringe to gown of you. 

And shrubs as well as trees once bare. 
Do proudly all their snow gowns wear 
Alid meet the questioning worldling's stare, 

As if to say that here is wrought 

A miracle in very truth — 

And all's transformed by winter's breath. 

Ah, Winter, there are none should rue 
The Summer's death when one can do 
Such wonders in a night as you. 



[12] 



DARING 

A CLUMP of pines and birches clustering close, 
One lonely pine that towers above the rest. 
A mass of men held in convention's bounds, 
One soul that dares, outstrips and gets life's 
best. 



[13] 



VISIONS 

I HEAR the call of to-morrow 

Past the pink horizon there, 
I smile at the hope it awakens 

And I'd willingly do and dare, 
But for visions that come before me — 

Those visions I cannot gainsay — 
Of the loves and the hopes all thwarted 

That grew in yesterday. 



[14] 



MIST OF THE SEA 

The mist unbidden creeps up from the sea, 
And lights along the shore are hidden quite ; 

So dallying Folly with her hand does sway 
Stern purpose from the right. 



[15] 



SUMMER 

"Twitter, twitter, twitter," said the swallow 
to the sparrow, 
"Too wit, too wit, too wee," was echoed 
round 
In the vastness of the shrubs and trees, 
With every little lilting breeze. 

And oh, the gladsome spring had summer 
found ! 



[16] 



REVERIE 

Was I created of the sun 

Once in the ages long, long gone 
That I so love the ball of fire — 

Was I the fruit of the sun's desire? 

Or did I with Diana rove; 

Was I the child of Endymion love? 
The sun — the moon — in ecstasy 

I love — ah, what this mystery:* 

Mayhap some ancient oak bore me 

To dwell in human form, not tree. 

For I would spare them, every one 
And love each tree as if my own. 

But flowers, too, have for me charm ; 

I feel each petal gently warm 
My breast as if a mother dear 

Were nestling me so close to her. 

Ah, yes it is of each I'm made, 

I am the light, I am the shade, 

And only live in human frame 

That I may give it all again — 



[17] 



To men, the light of noonday sun, 

The tender thoughts that moonbeams 
bring. 

And shade of trees in sultry street. 

And flowers' breath for ages sweet. 



[18] 



MY QUEST 

I SEARCHED for love in heart of city's hum; 
I searched for love upon the shining sand 
Of ocean beach ; and then on towering cliffs I 

sung 
A pleading song that love unto my heart might 

come — 

But love came not. 

I searched for love no more, but labored sore 
To ease those hearts whom sorrow'd touched 

before ; 
Faint hope that in sweet work I'd surely find 
Some compensation for a fate unkind — 
When lo ! love came. 



[19] 



CALL OF THE WOODS 

I SEE you where the grasses are, 

My loved one of the earth and air; 

Your lips on mine you fondly press, 
Your very eyes wave a caress, 
I'm longing for you once again. 

Beloved One. -^ 

The smell of pines breathes from you Dear, 
The waters too ; I clearly hear 

The splash of oar and paddle light 

Through all the long, long day's delight 
When leaves are turning red and brown, 
Beloved One. 

How long can I resist it all. 

Your deep insistent ringing call. 

From every rock and crag and tree. 
In every breeze that blows to me 
I seem to hear, "Ah, haste you, come," — 
Beloved One. 



[ao] 



SPRING 

I THOUGHT the grass forever dead, 
So deep the snow his mantle spread, 
But on a morn I chanced to see 
A tiny blade creep through to me ! 

I thought your love another'd gained- 
So long the silence and the pain — 
But on a mom I chanced to see 
Spring coming in your smile to me ! 



[21] 



THE SHELL 

How could I know the tiny shell 

I flung upon the shore, 
Could hold the whole of ocean wide 

With its deep sounding roar. 

How could I know the heart I loved, 
Then dropped without a thought, 

Could hold all life and love and death 
With their rare meanings fraught. 

But years gone by, another shell 

I find beside the sea; 
I hear its sad, incessant moan, 

I hear her cry to me. 



[22] 



TO THE SEA GULLS 

(The ancients believed the gulls were ever div- 
ing into the sea for some lost object.) 

Why do you circle the prow around 
Of vessel that cuts the surging sea ; 
Why does your note so plaintive sound 
So full of unrest and misery? 

Oh, 'tis not for fish you downward sweep, 
For that alone were not worth while ; 
Something you've lost — your spirits droop. 
Like man in searching the days beguile. 

And ever and ever you circle and coo, 
And ever and ever man speculates on ; 
No nearer the end of your quest are you, 
For the lost are lost to gulls and man. 



[23] 



RAIN IN THE CITY 

A MURKY night all filled with thoughts of rain, 
A cloud of smoke with wind in battle vain, 
Lights swinging from great poles, and clatter- 
ing by 
A car belated — ^with its clanging cry. 

And rows and rows of houses still within — 
Like some great, subtle, ponderous, hidden sin. 
A straggler hurries with his coat upturned, 
And strives in vain to light his pipe unburned. 

Lo, now, the wind all breathless pauses sore. 
While rain in sheets and torrents down does 

pour. 
No hint of dawn the hurrying straggler meets, 
But floods and floods on mundane city streets. 



[24] 



THE MERMAID'S SONG 

In eons gone I was a maid most fair, 
Wind tossed my yellow hair. 

I sylph-like sought the sea's great shore 
And lingered loving there. 

For I was scanning the horizon far 

For one bright beaming star 
And that one star to be to me 

For all eternity. 

I was a maiden and I loved a star 

And waited for him there. 
Each night I waited by the silvery sea 

And loj he fell to me. 

But in the awful fall through space, 

Of him I lost all trace. 
I longed, I prayed his face to see 

But no smile greeted me. 

And then t'was morn and I could plainly tell 

The stars had vanished well, 
And I did mourn and tear my yellow hair, 

That hair of me most fair. 



[25] 



But as in joy, no smile can last alway, 

So sorrow passed away. 
I heard in limpid depths of green and gray 

A hundred creatures say, 

"Come, come, fair maid, to ocean caverns sweet. 

To mourn, it is not meet." 
So I descended through no will my own 

To coral reefs, my home. 

And that was eons gone but still I say, 

I love my star to-day. 
Would I could be on yon earth once more, 

My gaze to heaven soar. 

But I must ever with these creatures move. 

Mermaid no star could love, 
And so I must my lot all bravely bear ; 

My sobs you hear, you hear 

In every wind that whistles through the mast 

Of schooner drifting past ; 
You hear them in the sobbing of the sea, 

And loud or tearfully. 



[26] 



SONGS OF THE ALPS 



RIGI AT SUNSET 

Above a mass of snow and ice and streams, 
All colorless save for the rosy glow 

The parting sunbeams generously throw. 

Below the pines with age all sombre grown, 
And clasping close the lake of azure sheen 
Like one who's old and clings to lover's 
dream. 

No sound disturbs the perfect peace save one. 
The tinkle of the chamois' bell full sweet, 
And call of herdsman following close its 
feet. 



[29] 



LAKE LUCERNE 

You are the sapphire blue, 

With depths that mirror true ; 

You are a woman's eyes, 
Wherein a shadow lies. 

You are the bird's delight, 

When quivering low from fright ; 
You are the solace of souls, 

When thundering echoes roll. 

You were when Caesar came. 

You saw Napoleon too ; 
You let no battle's blood. 

Change the deep blue of you. 

You saw a handful of men 

Fight for a liberty dear; 

You saw Helvetia win. 

Dauntless, and free from fear. 

Guarded by sentinels true. 

The Alps in uniform white, 

None may your waters pollute. 

No vandals intrude in the night. 



[30] 



You are the artist's fancy, 
In nature's gallery rare ; 

You are the poet's classic 

He puts into meter fair. 

You will be here forever, 

To chasten and soften, subdue 
The storms of tempestuous passion, 

With your deep quieting blue. 



[31] 



PASSING WILLIAM TELL'S CHAPEL 

What need has man of monument 
When pilgrims far and wide 
Do yearly come to worship at 
His shrine. 

Embossed ornate in memory's book 
One name the Swiss revere. 

They travel as to patron saints 
To chapel dear. 

Ah, Switzerland can ne'er forget 
His. deeds of prowess fine, 

And feeble then a traveler's praise 
Of that brave man. 

So gliding reverently by 
On Lucerne's waters still, 

I touch sweet, sacred memories 
Of William Tell. 



[32] 



CHILLON 

Chillon, you are an ugly stone 
Set in a wreath of pearls, 

An awful, yawning, evil eye, 

That once did horrors hurl. 

You the hobgoblin wrung from fate, 
To scare the sons of men ; 

You the great awful darkening pit, 
For men in ages gone. 

Nestled near waters pure and blue. 
Fanned by the mountain breeze. 

How did you dare to suffering wreak, 
And men by torture craze? 

Ah yes, Chillon, you did your worst. 
But your eye has lost its power; 

And men no longer tremble now, 
At you all fearful cower. 

Chillon, you are a stone worn thin, 
A memory dark and drear, 

A musty creepy ruin old, 

In a setting divinely fair. 



[33] 



JUNGFRAU 

(young woman) 

In virgin white, Jungfrau, you rear your 

head, 
For centuries thus queenly and thus unafraid, 
A saint — men contrite at your shrine have 

prayed. 

Chaste work of God, Jungfrau, yet can it be 
That you are cold, unfeeling, can not see 
One smallest tithe of mortal's misery? 

Nay, nay, fair Jungfrau, vanish all my fears; 
The coldest woman's not as cold as she appears ; 
Last night I saw you in a mist of tears. 



[34] 



INTERLAKEN 

Interlaken, winsome maiden, 

I have sought you everywhere; 
On the heights and in the depths, 
Where the ocean breezes swept, 

I have sought you here and there 
Interlaken. 

I had seen in my soul's dream 
Such an one as you, yet I 
Never found the dream come true 
That the gods did paint of you ; 
So it was for me to sigh, — 
Interlaken. 

Interlaken, winsome maiden. 

Mine the search and long; 
Now I've found you nestled here. 
Jealously I'll guard you, dear, 
And prison you in song, — 
Interlaken. 



[35] 



TO A TYROL CRUCIFIX 

Forlorn and old and gray, ah you, 

Here in the Tyrol vale, 
Where towering peaks forbidding loom, 

That one his beads may tell. 

A constant torch that lights the way, 
You, the great symbol, sign 

Of a faith that counts its followers 
From every land and clime. 

Ah, Crucifix, let none assail. 

No pagan pass to chaff. 
Of Virgin worshipers that kneel. 

You are the prop, the staff. 

You are unmoved by heresy. 

You are the sea's great tide 

That moves a surging mass of men. 
All near and far and wide. 

You are the one to smile, not I, 

But your eyes are full of tears. 

You hear the prayers of sturdy men. 

Their struggles and their fears. 



[36] 



So, fare you well, quaint Crucifix, 
I shall not pass this way 

Another time, but others will, 

At shrine to kneel and pray. 



[87] 



THE HARVEST 

I PLUCKED the first blown buds of spring, 
I pulled and strewed the petals wide , 
And through the summer's glow there was 
No bud but in my hand it died. 

But when the winter came — alas ! 
By doubts and fears I was beset. 
Through blinding mists of agony 
I saw — but thistles of regret. 



[38] 



THE RETURN 

I WANDERED in the fields of waving stuff 

For long — where men were garnering gold 
each year; 
But one day in disgust I sought the path 

That led me back to woodland's ways once 
dear. 

I found at length the pool of Homer clear, 
And quaint old oaks of Keats and Poe and 
Burns , 

While yet a little deeper in the shade, 

I rested near a clump of Wordsworth ferns. 

Oh, classic shades, you beckoned and I came. 
My heart long aching, homesick for you 
yearned ; 
Come, sway me with the power you used to 
have, — 
The prodigal repentant has returned. 



[39] 



THE UNIVERSAL NOTE 

The Autumn wind blows fitfully, 
And sounds of moan are off the Sea, 
And a bird is singing pensively. 

The wind is sighing for leaves all gone. 
The bird because of her nest that's shorn,- 
And a new made grave my heart has torn. 



[40] 



WHEN POETRY WAS BORN 

Aphrodite, Aphrodite, in the sea foam white, 
Rising from the mist and spray 

Where the gladsome sea nymphs play 
Through the moonlit night. 

Aphrodite, Aphrodite, in the sea foam white, 
Through eyes no dancing spray could dim 

Clearly through the wastes saw him, 
A youth in raiment bright. 

She gazed as fascinated then, sweet Aphrodite 
there — 

Beyond her nymphs who sportive played 
About her feet and dangling stayed — 

To that far shore so fair. 

And 'cross the dreary watery way fled Aphro- 
dite then. 

Nor knew not that her vision rare 
Had caused the youth to breathless stare. 

She fell at feet of him. 

She loosed her golden locks ; they drooped in 
waving ringlets down 

About her shoulders' classic slope 
And lo, they stirred in him new hope. 

Inspired a joyous song. 

[41] 



And sang as ne'er before this swain to Aphro- 
dite dear 

On moor, or mount or rock-ribbed shore, 
With tender note he sang to her. 

The Universe was lured 

From things that were too commonplace, too 
plainly, sadly trite. 

To gaze upon this singing god 
Who woke the very sleeping sod 

With songs of love's delight. 

L'Envoi 
And from that ancient day to this 

All youths with magic lyre rove 
To voice a lover's rarest thought: 

All poets sing of love. 



[42] 



WALTER PATER TO A BEE 

Oh, busy little fluttering thing that lives 

A moment only of the eons wide, 

I would that I could with the flowers abide. 

For you sip honey from each rose you see, 
And men look on all rapturous to say, 
See, see the luscious honey and the bee. 

While I, who prate of grasping pleasure here, 
Am sensuous called — barbarian — and must fear 
The worst from critics who but dully hear 

The call to me of bird and bee and flower. 
The chanting of wood nymphs in trellised 

bower. 
Oh, would I were a bee to sip the flower. 



[43] 



SORROW 

I ASKED the south wind gently strolling by, 
I begged the birds all winged for Heaven, if 

they 
Could tell me aught of sorrow; but a song 
Of cheer came from the joyous hearted throng. 
No sorrow there. 

With bees and flowers the answer was the same ; 
No sorrow ever in their midst had come. 
And tVas not till years after, when I said. 
Youth, hope, love, joy of life is dead — 
I sorrow found! 



[M] 



WATCHING ANOTHER GLEAN 

To see you gather in the grain, 
Beloved, it were sweet indeed ; 

You worked while I in meadows played, 
Yours be the harvest and the gain. 

To see you glean — did I not love 

You so, 'twould all my hopes undo — 

Yours be the laurels. Anon I'll sow 
A better seed because of you. 



[45] 



LOVE RESURRECTED 

I SAID my love was dead, and so I bowed 

My head in very anguish on your bier, 

The perfumed roses all about me there 
And redolent of memories so fair. 

But out of crumpled masses — letters burned — 
There woke new love. For you dear heart 
I yearned. 



[46] 



LAST NIGHT 

It rained last night ; ah, now I know 

That you were in the sobbing rain o'erhead, 

Again that rare sweet voice I clearly heard, 
To me, that voice long dead. 

And soothingly you seemed to say 

Before you vanished in the dripping green, 

"Farewell, dear one, 'tis not for me love's 
day"— 
Then all was clouded dream. 

It rained last night ; ah, now I know — 

E'en though my life of all its joys bereft, 

'Twas kind of you that thus you'd come and 
go— 
With the rain you came and left. 



t*r] 



THEN— AND NOW 

Forget you, Love? Ah spare that query harsh 
To one from out whose soul does leap such fierce 

Impassioned love as mine ! Ah bid me stay. 

Forget you, Love? Not till my dying day. 

Forget you. Love? That query after years 
Have brought their changeful influence to bear ; 
I can not say — I dare not — but regret 
Does fill me at the truth. I did — forget! 



[48] 



FAITH 

She held his head between her hands and said, 
"Whate'er betide, beloved, I will go 
With you, e'en tho' the way I cannot see. 
Nor feel, nor know." 



[19] 



HOPE 

She did not hear his footfall when she should 
And rumors all about her fast did fly; 
Still thought she to her arms he'd surely come. 
She would not cry. 



[50] 



CHARITY 

And when he came at last of others worn, 
Her bosom none the less she bared to him, 
Forgetting in the greatness of her love, 
That he had sinned. 



[51] 



THE AWAKENING 

Long years my soul in silence grim 

Went on its way as souls will go — 

Nor felt the beauty of the dawn, 

Nor heard the music of the stars ; 
Long years alone! 

Long years alone and then one came, 
One other one with longing eyes. 

He pressed his ruddy lips to mine. 

Soul answered soul to rapture find- 
In stars and dawn ! 



[52] 



RESURGAM 

You thought to spurn my love and it fell dpad, 
A thing of no account on which to tread, 
Alas the cruel things you did, you said. 

But as the sea on darkest night all gray 
Is suddenly illumined far away 

By phosphorescent gleams that sparkling 
play, 

So then my love that seems now rent in two 
Shall ghost-like hover round the heart of you , 
In quiet hours rise and flicker too. 



[53] 



UNREQUITED 

Oh rose that clambers in my window there, 
With your deep crimson glow, 

How is it that you your beauty rare 
On my dull sense bestow? 

Oh Love that lingers in these arms awhile. 

How like the rose are you ! 
Your eyes are moist with unshed tears, 

The rose with a drop of dew. 



[54] 



SONGS OF THE NORTH 



INDIAN LULLABY 

Oh, close your eyes my dusky one, 

Nipissing, Nipissing, 
As through the pines the setting sun 
Does warn us that the day is done, 

My Baby Nipissing. 

The birds are singing now no more, 

Nipissing, Nipissing, 
And ne'er a paddle nor an oar 
We hear upon the waters clear. 

My Baby Nipissing. 

The chipmunk to his hole returns, 

Nipissing, Nipissing, 
And fast asleep 'neath yonder ferns 
Are the big brown bugs and fuzzy worms. 

My Baby Nipissing. 

And all alone the yellow moon, 

Nipissing, Nipissing, 
So close your eyes, I'll gently croon 
That morrow's play time may be soon. 

My Baby Nipissing. 



[57] 



DESTINY 

She sits with vision tense and keen, 

The shadows round her play. 
Her stitches are the sons of men, 
All fast and firm she weaves them in 
And she weaves the livelong day. 

And not one stitch does she let fall, — 

The warp must last alway — 
Her stitches are the sons of men, 
All fast and firm she weaves them in 
And her face is old and gray. 



[58] 



AN INDIAN LOVE SONG 

The shadows close around me, Love, 

Nepahwin, 
And soft is now the scent of pine, 
But heavy is the heart of mine, 
Nepahwin. 

I heard your paddle light and clear, 

Nepahwin, 
At early morn before the sun 
Had struggled through the trees at dawn, 

Nepahwin. 

And now 'tis night and shadows green, 

Nepahwin, 
Are flickering in the water's sheen. 
And still no trace of you is seen, 

Nepahwin. 

The shadows close around me. Love, 

Nepahwin, 
And soft is now the scent of pine. 
But heavy is the heart of mine, 

Nepahwin. 



[59] 



THE POET 

TO CHARLES HANSON TOWNE 

Alas, poor bird, blown from your woodland nest 
To where great buildings hide the azure sky , 

I marvel that your note is all so sweet 
And in it is no murmur nor a sigh ; 

That din of commerce thundering in your ear, 
And roaring trains and whistles shrilly bleak 

Have dimmed not in your soul the thrush's call, 
Or meadows with their wind-blown daisies 
meek. 

It is as if your spirit still remained 

Where clover blossoms all their beauty share, 

That you might weave a song of hope and cheer 
To keep mere men from dying of despair. 

Sing on, oh bird of magic note, I say, 
And let the city's famished millions soar 

To where beyond the money madness lie 

God's fields Elysian, vast and sweet and pure. 



[60] 



JAN 22 1913 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

018 391 722 5 t | 



